Little Details
by Castle Solo
Summary: Liv is a modern woman living in 2009 who has had some issues in her life. All of a sudden she goes to a movie, opens a book, and through the black hole of the universe is sucked into the world of Sherlock Holmes. Sequel now posted "Logicality"
1. Chapter 1: Fallen from Grace

Well hello there. Another one of my creations. I saw Sherlock Holmes (2009) the day after Christmas and was hooked. Suddenly I had an idea, one that I had to jot down. Pretty soon my mind got to working and, poof!, there it was. Disclaimer: I do not own anything. If I did I would have no need to publish on this site, but alas I am not rich nor as clever as that. Nothing against , it gave me a creative outlet for my writing practice. Holmes and Watson are characters of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. My original characters are pretty much every other character. If I pull in one from the movie I will let you know. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll just see if you guys get it. Thanks for reading. Do you know what the three R's are? Remember, Rate and Review! Enjoy. Oh and thank Snips95 for holding my feet to the fire to get this up.

_**Little Details**_

"Liv, please! I am begging you on my hands and knees. I promise I will make it up to you. Will you please forgive me?" Lois's voice pleaded over my answering machine. "Liv, will you please pick up? I know you're there." Curse her inevitable sweetness. Her betrayal had been sudden and yet I was remarkably calm about it. Like water on a duck, I let it roll down my back.

"Ok Liv, meet me in fifteen minutes at that Barnes and Noble you work at. Please, I want to make it up to you. It's the Holidays, for heaven's sake. It's important Liv." With that the beep of the recorder flared and cut her off. I sat in my chair and sniffed my cocoa. It was the good stuff, with mint extract and marshmallows floating on top. I had a good mind to stay where I was, curled up and cozy. But that nagging feeling began to eat at me. Groaning, I took a swig of my cocoa, set it on the table and grabbed my coat.

Walking through the doors, I took in the sweet scents of the scones and coffee in the café. I had worked at the bookstore for a year now. It was my home away from home. Urgh, and there she was in the lounge section, the wicked enchantress hiding behind those big brown curls and underneath the thick perfect eyelashes. I loathed her whole existence. Yet some sort of awful higher force pushed me to meet her. Her eyes locked on mine and a relieved and tight smile spread across her face. I hated that face.

"Liv," She offered quietly. I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eyes and therefore grabbed a book on my way over.

"I don't even know why I'm here." I muttered. Lois just looked at me.

"Liv, I'm so sorry. I-I- I didn't know you would take it so hard."

"My fiancé disappeared at sea, Lois. And you had the audacity to throw it in my face." I snapped ferociously. Lois looked at her feet in silence.

"Liv, I'm sorry." She whispered. I could hear the tears in her voice and it made my heart sing. I loved causing her pain and yet deep down I knew it was wrong.

"Listen, that night, I was not myself. I was hurt and angry."

"That is never an excuse." I hissed. I finally read the title of the book in my hands. _Sherlock_ _Holmes_,the classic was known to me and I actually had read it a long time ago.

"Life just got hectic and I lost sight of what was important to me. Lately my life has been so crazy and emotional I don't know what got into me." To be quite honest I didn't know what had gotten into her either. She'd been so out of character that night, if I hadn't known better I would have thought she was drunk.

"And you think my life is hunky dory? Trust me; you _don't_ know what has gone on. I wish that I could just whisk myself away every time I… opened this book." I held up the book I had picked up from the shelf. "But you know what? I can't and there isn't anything I can do about it." I finished bitterly. I looked into her face and I could see a flicker in her mask. Something else was bothering her, nothing to do with me.

"But I'm not the full reason you're here, am I?" I asked her. Real tears were in her eyes now.

"No, no, actually I needed someone to talk to because… 'cause my dad died last night." My heart stopped. The man who had been like a father to me was dead. He had helped me overcome my alcoholism and personally helped me detox off of it. The world slowed down as I fell into one of the plush couches the shop provided its readers. I didn't even notice I wasn't breathing until Lois was next to me putting her arm around my shoulder.

"How did it happen?" I asked slowly. Lois sniffed.

"He had a stroke."

"I always did tell him to eat his Cheerios." I said dryly, almost instantly regretted poking fun at the deceased. Yet Lois only chortled through her sobs. I hadn't ever been one to cry. I made it all the way through Titanic without a single tear. But tonight I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. Lois and I sat there, crying in each other's shoulders. Forgotten were the rifts between us. Suddenly were just as sisterly as we were before.

After a good fifteen minutes of crying our tears were gone and her eyes were swollen.

"Well, now what do we do?" I asked. It was 5:30. "I've got nothing else planned."

"You wanna go to the movies?" Lois asked. That had always been our favorite pass time. It seemed fitting that to make up our friendship we'd do it with a movie.

"Sure, what should we see?" We made our way to the exit. Then I remembered the book in my hand. Feeling emotional I decided I'd go buy it with my employee discount.

With a new book in hand and my best friend at my side, we walked down the street to the mall where the theaters were.

"Hmmm, they've got Avatar, Princess and the Frog, New Moon…"

"Heck no, I refuse to go and participate in that tween franchise. It's offensive to those of us who actually enjoy real books." I said stoutly. Lois laughed out loud.

"Ok then, well there's Blind Side, Nine, It's Complicated,"

"Sherlock Holmes," I interrupted.

"What was that?"

"Let's go see Sherlock Holmes." Lois pulled out her Blackberry and went to Rotten Tomatoes to check it out.

"Seems ok, alright," She stepped up to the box office. "Two tickets to Sherlock Holmes please." Paying with a credit card she picked up the tickets and we went in.

"Popcorn?" Lois asked, pointing to the small concessions counter.

"Yeah," I replied softly. As she left me alone for a moment I thought painfully about the losses I had suffered as of late. My parents had abandoned me when I was a child. After spending years bouncing around between foster homes I struck out on my own as a teenager, got involved with alcohol and a gang. But I am happy to say I said 'no thank you' to the drugees thank you very much. Then after pulling off an almost perfect heist I was caught and detained. Instead of jail for me, since the lawyers thought I didn't have any role models to show me what was right and I was a week away from my 18th birthday, they stuck me in the Navy. Three years was to be my sentence, kind of a slap on the wrist if you ask me, but I took it. At first I resisted and got my rear end handed to me for it. For three years I sailed around the world and figured out I wanted a better education but not in anything particular. I wasn't a very decisive person. After my sentence was up I went to college in the town I discharged from. There I met Professor Langley of Historic Anthropology and World Literature. He taught me everything about life. I even became best friends with his daughter, Lois. Their family became the only family I had ever known.

Then _he_ came into town. Lieutenant Junior Grade Jamison Titus Kirk, but to me J.T. was my best friend in my Navy years. My first year there he thought it funny to poke fun at me because of my past. I really hated him, but no one else would even talk to me. So he became my accidental friend. We did everything together, except when we were apart. We'd even talked of marriage one day, but life took a turn for the unexpected and he got reassigned to the Gulf area and I was soon to be discharged. We'd fallen out of contact, but I still spoke of him to everyone. When he appeared on my doorstep I was shocked but pleasantly surprised to find him a bit tanner and a lot more lovable. He had become a Lieutenant Commander since I had seen him. For his liberty we spent every spare moment with each other. Then, the day before he was to leave, he took me to my favorite bookshop and handed me a book. I saw there was something inside preventing the pages to close. Opening it up I found a modest diamond ring with one rock in the middle book ended by two others. When I looked up I found J.T. on one knee. He told me that after his next six months at sea he was taking a desk job as a lawyer and consultant. He asked me to marry him to keep him company; if he couldn't be with his 600 other shipmates then he only wanted one mate is what he said. If someone had told my 18 year old self that I would someday find a ring in a book romantic I would have been rolling on the floor laughing. I never thought anyone could break me. Yet there I stood, rehabilitated and staring at my closest friend. I said yes, of course.

After he left I was busy planning for a wedding. Only six months to go, soon it was only five then four, then three… then the unthinkable happened. I received a visit from a well dressed military woman who asked if I had a minute and it was important. She proceeded to tell me that J.T. had gone missing when a group of terrorists had infiltrated his ship. They would do everything in their power to find him but the possibility was less than ten percent. Lois and Professor Langley had been the ones to get me through. If not for Professor Langley's confiscation of my vodka supply I would relapse back into my earlier life.

Now, here I was six months later and another loved one was taken from me. It seemed like a bad soap opera, the protagonist looses everything and then commits suicide because she can't deal with it. Well, I got news for the writers of my life, I am not that predictable.

"Here, extra butter and it came with a pack of Red Vines." Lois handed me a bucket of popcorn.

"Thanks," I said, popping a few pieces into my mouth. Lois linked her arm with mine and we walked into the theatre the good friends we were.

Sitting in my seat, I thumbed the hardbound book in my lap. The movie was surprisingly good. I really was enjoying myself, despite my recent appearance. I decided, for some strange reason, to take a peek at my new book. Silently, I opened it up and could almost smell the new binding. The scent grew stronger until it was an intoxicating aroma of fresh paper and ink. My eyes began to close on their own free will, even though I really did want to finish watching the movie. For some reason, though, I wasn't at all afraid that my consciousness was ebbing. My eyes shut and, for a moment, the world came to a complete and utter halt.

* * *

Damn, my head hurt like a mother! I don't know what had happened, all I know is that now I'm in serious pain. My ears began to pick up warbled and distorted sounds. I thought I heard voices but it was too much for my brain to try to tell. I wanted to open my eyes, but they felt like they were filled with lead and cemented with a brick wall.

"…this, Watson…" I made out a part of the sound as human speech. Someone was near me somewhere. And I was curious as to what "Watson" meant. With all my might I pushed my eyelids up a fraction of an inch and saw blurry shapes moving about me. Suddenly, I felt a firm hand grasp the sides of my throat. Fearing a death by choking I couldn't help but try to move. My body's only response was a faint stir. An attempt at cursing came out only as a tiny moan, escaping my tightly clasped lips. The hand instantly let up and I felt it rest gently on my forehead.

"She's alive," The words were the clearest yet, but they still took all my brain power to decipher. I felt the hand leave and I tried to open my eyes to see who to which it belonged.

"Easy now, up you go." A masculine voice spoke in my ear. I felt a set of hands grip my wrist and the back of my head, gently lifting me into a sitting position. My eyes didn't feel quite as heavy as I sat up. Blinking in the light and trying to make out the blurry images, a face drifted into view. Combed curly black hair with distinguished sides of grey, a long nose, and a handful of salt and pepper stubble on his chin, a man stared at me with piercing brown eyes. Taking in his face I instantly recognized him.

"Tony Stark?" I nearly gasped. Then I really gasped when I heard my voice, clapping my hand over my mouth. The voice was somewhat mine yet with a refined English accent that I had not put on. The man laughed at my shock and bewilderment.

"You see, Watson? Perfectly fine. She must have been dreaming of this Tony Stark while she was out; mistaking me, the first person she saw, as this lover." Whoa, there Mr. Iron Man, you've got it all wrong.

"No, no, no, you misunderstood. I'm not in love with…" I trailed off as the rest of the room came into focus. I was sitting smack in the middle of one heck of a salon. Gilded chairs and tables, rich chocolates sitting in a candy dish, exquisite paintings, the works of one amazing living room. As I sat stunned in silence I heard a faint horse's whinny drift in through the window. Trying to get up to see, I nearly tripped on my outfit. The rustling green taffeta encircled me in an 1870's style full length dress. Looking out the window I saw horse drawn carriages lining the streets and black smoke billowing into the clouds above. This can't be happening, not to me. No, I didn't go back in time, that's impossible. This is all a dream, a very intense dream. I turned back to the room to find two men staring quizzically at me. My heart began to pound in my chest. My breath suddenly didn't come so freely. I panted as I reached for the nearest object, a walking stick that was on the ground. I grabbed it as fast as I could and thrust it up, pointing it at the men. With a thud the front of the stick fell off to reveal a sharp thin rapier. Wow, maybe my luck is changing. I still pointed it at the two men who swiftly put their hands up and backed away a few steps.

"Sweetheart, I think you need to put that down. We're here to help you." Said the guy who looked like Tony Stark. I felt myself begin to hyperventilate. "Are you alright? Do you need help?" The other man began walking towards me. His face came out of the shadows and I nearly shrieked when I saw Jude Law's face staring at me. I only pointed the rapier at him. He stopped and held still for a moment with both hands in the air.

"Who are you two? What are you doing here? There's something going on here because you sure as hell aren't Downey Jr. and Law, so who are you?!" My voice elevated to near a scream.

"Darling, I suggest you take a seat. I think you've hit your head." The guy who looked like Jude Law said. While I had turned my sword on Law, Tony Stark had moved to the table where a bottle and glasses lay.

"Here have a drink," He turned back toward me and held up the glass filled halfway with the alluring red drink. My body wished so hard for me to drop the sword and get a taste of that alcohol. It was probably very refined, stuff I only wished for as a teen. But I knew I shouldn't, in fear of relapsing into my alcoholism. Through my hyperventilation and my shaking I probably looked pretty awful.

"No… thanks. I-I- I don't drink." I pushed the sentence out. He only shrugged and downed the glass in one swig. The man could hold his liquor, I was impressed. But I still couldn't explain what I was doing there and why. Law began to slowly come towards me.

"Miss. We're here to help you. My name is Dr. Watson, I am a health practitioner. That scum over there is Mr. Holmes."

"I heard you, Watson." Mr. Holmes called from across the room. Somewhere in my brain I felt strange memories returning. A night time in a movie theater, popcorn, a book in my hand, a friend… Lois that was her name. My best friend, where was she? I hadn't noticed I'd lowered the rapier. Dr. Watson had gotten in close and put his hand on my shoulder. Gently, he took the sword and stuck it back in the walking stick.

"Can I ask your name?" Dr. Watson looked at me earnestly.

"Yes… yes I'm sorry its umm… its… uh," I didn't even remember my name. Panic shot through me. Who was I? I knew I wasn't from this time but who was I before? Who am I now?

"Baroness Olivia Guinevere Williams Castillo." Holmes announced from his position at the desk. Both Watson and I looked to see Holmes staring at a paper then looking to us. "Wife of the late Baron Castillo, daughter of Lord Beckett, and historic connoisseur in art, literature, and…" he paused as he turned dramatically back toward me and Watson, "ancient architecture." I just stared at him blankly.

"And… how do you figure all this?"

"Your name I deduced from the locket around your neck, which read Olivia G. Williams. Then, since everyone knows of the late Baron and his wife it was no stretch to connect the two. It was quite and extravaganza, your marriage was if I remember correctly." Uh, ok, whatever you say I will go along with it.

"And how do you suppose I am the daughter of Lord Beckett?" I asked. He only smiled.

"A few years ago I was hired by your father," Not really my father but I'll play along with you, "and I did business with him. You share his sharp cheek bones as well as upturned nose, not to mention the obvious blue eyes." I nodded. Ok, maybe I could get him to read me and tell me who I am even though I don't even know who I am.

"Yes, and what of my lifestyle? Can you read that as well?" I challenged him.

"Certainly, my dear. You live for yourself now that you are officially out of mourning. Your father has set up many suitors for you and each have met in this very room. Yet you turned them all down because of a number of reasons, seeing as there is still no ring on your finger and the ring in your skin is still fairly fresh. Hmmm your favorite food is simply bread with French cheese melted on top," I stopped him on this one.

"How could you possibly get that?"

"The scent of baking bread throughout your estate as well as the cartons in the back of a French dairy deliverer's cart which we followed into your gateway. There is also a bit of it stashed underneath the couch, the lampshade, and on the desk. Either you really like it or someone is playing hide and seek with it."

"Very good. Now, I'm not trying to be rude but what are the two of you even doing here? I thought you were only a detective, Mr. Holmes." Holmes smiled slyly at me.

"And how did you know this, Miss Castillo? Spying on me, are we?" Crap, I'd slipped up. I needed to keep my modern tongue in my head or it was going to be one hell of an explanation and laughing stock.

"No, no, of course not, I just… uh, well… I've read about you." It was the truth. Every child has heard the bedtime stories of Sherlock Holmes, and then in my first years of college I was forced to read the book by Arthur Conan Doyle by Professor Langley. Hey… I remembered another name from my other time. I think everything is starting to come back. Then with the memory of Professor Langley, came the painful realization that he was dead. I remembered how harsh he had been on me in my first few years of college. Being in the Navy had rehabilitated my criminal ways, but not my study and work habits. Professor Langley threatened to release my Juvy record to my friends, which I didn't really appreciate. Those had been other times, but now that I think about it _that _was another time as well. Ah, Professor, why must you torment me so in death?

"Is something the matter?" Watson asked. Shaking my head I saw him staring at me with great intent. I felt like a guinea pig in a lab being examined and watched for behavioral patterns. My face must have shown my internal thoughts.

"Uh, no, not a 'toll." My accent really revealed itself there and it was slightly unsettling. I wondered what would happen if I tried an American accent. Would the person who's body I now possess (ew, that's a nasty way to put it,) be capable of an American accent? Hmmm, well when ever a spare moment arrives, I'll be trying out my new tongue on accents.

"So, about your snooping around my home?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, we were invited, actually. The new head of police, what's his name again?" Holmes looked to Watson.

"Simmons," He supplied.

"Ah yes, Captain Simmons took a look at your husband's case and saw a few things were not as wrapped up as he'd liked them to be. He hired me to take a look at his murder to see if we could apprehend the killer finally." My head began swirling as I tried to think of who my late husband was. Suddenly, as if by lightning, flashes of memories seemed to flare up in my mind; memories that weren't mine. I saw a dashing and distinguished man with chiseled features and sparkling eyes. In my mind I could almost hear him laugh. His skin was olive and smooth, had some Spanish ancestry I supposed. The way his hair was combed back in an orderly fashion seemed to make me want to reach out and touch it. I was married to this man? Wow, good job Olivia or whoever I am really. Then I remembered why I'd thought of him, he was dead. The playful yet respectful figure of my imagination, or memory I guess, was gone. Murdered. I couldn't help but sigh and close my eyes for a minute.

"So they never found the killer?" I asked. Holmes looked at me strange.

"No…. you of all people should know that. It was you who made it a press event when the police told you they'd put his case to rest. Are you sure you're alright?" Holmes asked.

"May I check you?" Watson asked. For a minute my modern mind heard him ask to check me out. The alarm in my face must have set him back.

"It'll only take a moment." He reassured. Getting hold of myself I nodded. Rubbing his hands together he walked toward me. He put one hand on my face. The skin of his hands was soft and comforting, radiating heat from his rubbing. With the other hand he held it up to my face. Raising his index finger he held it up and naturally I looked at it. Moving it around, he watched my reactions. My head began to spin as I tried to keep up. Taking his hand off of my face he then reached for my hand. I was a little surprised and I jumped at his clasp.

"It's alright." He soothed, making eye contact for a moment then proceeding. Slowly, he pulled my hand out so that my palm faced upwards and my fingers were spread out. Reaching into his breast coat pocket he pulled out a fountain pen, opened it, and then looked at me again.

"I'm just checking reaction times, I'm not going to hurt you. Although, this may tickle a bit." With that he used the pen and pricked a part of my palm near my fore finger. My middle finger jumped in reflex, then my pointer finger following slowly after. Nodding to himself he put the pen away then looked to Holmes.

"Delayed reaction times, confused reflexes, she's got temporary amnesia and a nasty bruise on her head. I would expect her memory to recover fully, but it may take some time and stimulus." Gently, he closed my fingers into my palm then wrapped his hands around my fist.

"You're going to be fine." He smiled at me. Slightly dazed, I looked back at Holmes.

"So, have you discovered anything?" I asked.

"Yes. You." He pointed out, pouring himself another glass of wine. Help yourself, I'm sure that stuff was expensive. I need to keep my mind off of that. It's too early to drink.

"And," Watson added, "We've noticed that the last detective never thought to question you. At least he doesn't say in his report, but we believe that possibly you did talk to him." I saw Watson's face fall slightly at the end. Of course, I was an amnesiac now so I wouldn't remember anything unless my memory was sparked by something.

"And since my new found amnesia, you no longer can ask me." I finished for him. Holmes wasn't paying attention any more. He'd started knocking on the walls. Being the modern feminist I was I thought he was looking for studs in the walls. Then I asked myself why he would do that.

"What's he doing now?" I asked Watson. He just shook his head.

"Who knows?"

"What color of paint is this?" Holmes asked, pointing to the cream colored panels between the crimson red. How am I supposed to know?

"Uh, ivory?" I tried.

"Yes…" Holmes then pointed to another panel. "Then what color is this one." He pointed to a panel in the corner of the room. It looked cream again to me. What was this? Interior decorating 101?

"It looks the same to me." Holmes' eyes sparked.

"Aha! Come here, Baroness, and take another look. Walking over I had to question Holmes' sanity. After all, wasn't he a drug addict? Humoring him I took a look at the panel. To my surprise it was slightly darker, a smoky look to the pain.

"It's not the same." I declared. Holmes smiled at me then began knocking on the wall adjacent to the panel we were looking at. The dull thuds were monotonous and agitating. I came close to asking him to stop when he reached the panel in question. A resounding thunk took me by surprise.

"It's hollow." He exclaimed.

"Do you suppose it's a safe of some sort?" I asked, putting my own hands on the panel and feeling around.

"Or a door." Holmes was staring at me again in his creepy way, the way he did when he knew something. Looking to him I saw a twinkle in his eye.

"Baroness, would you, in any way, remember how to open this?" He asked me. If I knew I would have already been inside checking it out myself. I closed my eyes and tried hard to think of the wall. Did it spark any of these memories? Opening my eyes I looked at the wall again. Down the side of every panel was a decorative edge, dividing the red from the ivory painting. The edge was beautiful with insets of the fleur-de-lis and some sort of Celtic design intertwined into a sort of old English calligraphy. I couldn't help but reach out and touch it. Running my fingers down I noticed an indention in the design, deeper than the artist probably wanted. Or maybe he did. In my head I suddenly saw an image of bare shoulders and a golden chain hanging around it. The graceful arc of the neck was a woman's. A thought occurred to me: what if that necklace held a secret? What if that neck was mine? Discreetly, I let my hand trail down my neck and found a small chain. Carefully I pulled it out, revealing a pendant at the end of the long chain. The pendant was the shape of a flower of some sort. Looking closely, I could tell it was a renaissance rose. I could see Holmes looking hungrily at the necklace. I reached up and felt for the indention again. I took a deep breath as I reached up to put the pendant in the whole. With a quiet click I heard it snap into place. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Watson approach.

Nothing happened.

"Well, what now? A show of sparks and a great unveiling as the door magically opens?" I asked, disappointed in myself for believing in the fantastic, agitated that I was here, and mad that he had the charisma to make me think I was someone else for a moment.

"I think you need to look beyond the obvious." I rolled my eyes and put my hand up on the pendant and pushed it in a little harder. Suddenly, I felt his hand cover mine. He looked at me meaningfully. Sorry buddy, this ain't a Hollywood movie.

"What?" I asked him as he stared.

"Nothing," He said absentmindedly as he began to turn the piece. With a little coaxing it soon turned smoothly three quarters of the way around.

The _pop, click,_ were the only sounds in the room. I swear I could have heard a pin drop. The panel pushed outward a tad, shocking me into letting go. Holmes simply took one look around then began to pry. Grunting and groaning as he pulled the door forward I tried to help him. Watson had come to help push too. He dug his fingers into the new crack.

"Wait, wait, wait, on three… one, two…. three," Both men heaved as hard as they could. The door didn't budge. Well, I take that back, it did actually. Only about another three inches from the rest of the wall. The men continued to push, pull, pry, and heave but it didn't move any more. They were taking the Rick O'Connell route. I almost laughed out loud as I remembered the old Mummy movies. I remembered something else. In one movie the girl used a decorative lock of some sort to guard some ancient relic. No… it couldn't be that simple. Walking up to the crack in the wall I put my hands on both men. My firm touch sent the message of: relax and get out of my way… please. Instantly, they backed off. Looking in the crack I saw a smooth wood panel with a pretty design stamped in it. The same design as was on my pendant. Reaching out, I put my nail around the wooden rose, feeling for some sort of edge. There! I dug my nail deeper and pulled up. With a small _clink_ the rose burst forward. The image of the rose coming out triggered something in the Baroness's mind. I saw a few flashes of the same rose piece, the I saw an olive toned masculine hand twisting it a three quarter turn to the right then one and a half turns back to the left.

"All too easy," I whispered, a small smile playing on my mouth. The rose twisted smoothly both ways, but I could feel the weight of the tumblers inside all the same. As I finished the last half a turn I heard a deep _clunk_ come from inside. With a great heave of its own, the door began to gradually open up. I felt like Harry Potter opening a vault in that one wizard's bank, what was it called? Gringras? Gringott's that's it. I smiled coyly at Holmes and Watson, both of who held looks that ranged between dumbfound and curiosity. Not to mention the giddiness of a school boy apparent in Holmes' eyes.

Taking a breath I looked inside to see what the hidden secret could be. The room inside was dim, lit only by candle light. Walking in, I let my eyes adjust and looked about. The swirling candle smoke gave the room a mystical feeling. It looked to made entirely of dark woods. Kind of a fire hazard, don't you think? Beautiful draperies adorned the door way. Or rather doorways. On closer inspection I saw two more doors, evenly spaced around the hexagonal room. Opposite the door we entered through hung a magnificent painting of what looked to be some sort of ancient Spanish soldier kneeling before a King and Queen. I couldn't help but stare at the mastery the painting held.

"Ah, Hernán Cortés de Monroy y Pizarro, the Spanish conquistador. A rare painting you have here. He is a mysterious man whom not many know of." Holmes observed. Ignoring him, I gently touched the painting with my finger, feeling the dry paint and the aging canvas on my skin. A few new thoughts just popped into my head.

"I think this belonged to my husband's family, passed down to him from his parents." I said, slightly far away.

"His father was a Spanish noble. He could have been a descendant of Cortes himself." Recalled Watson as he looked at the painting. Hmm, makes sense to me. No wonder the Baron was so good looking; he was some sort of Fabio living in England.

"Watson," Holmes called. Watson exchanged a glance with me and we both walked over to Holmes. He pointed to an embossed image on a wooden door. In a golden circle a small emblem was made of raised ink or whatever it was. Personally, it looked to me like some sort of Indiana Jones mumbo jumbo.

"The Crest of Cortes," Holmes whispered. It seemed as though I needed to read up on my ancient Spanish history again.

"Then it must be true," Watson added. The two shared a meaningful look with each other, and then turned to me, staring.

"Did I miss something?" I asked, completely lost. The excitement between the two men showed brightly in their expressions.

"You're husband was Spanish… of nobility even… my dear have you not heard of the Maria Conspiracy?" Holmes asked. Nope, sorry, wasn't even born in this century so I have no idea what in the world you're talking about.

"I'm sorry, no," I answered. The men looked incredulous but by now I didn't really care about old conspiracies and theoretical tales.

I walked about the room, getting a feeling for the place. I think some of Olivia's memories were coming back slowly but surely. I could see this room in my mind, but I was not alone in the room. The Baron was with me… Olivia… whoever, in the room. I saw his perfect face smiling sweetly as it came closer. I closed my eyes as the memory enfolded me. His manly arms held me close, close and safe. Then Olivia began to kiss back and the memory began to flash faster in my mind. Pretty soon I began to disturb myself with the images that came up in my mind. There was a trail of clothes left around the room and I could almost feel the heat of the Baron's skin on my , I guess the two were married and in love. Suddenly I really wanted out of Olivia's head as I remembered the night full of passion. It's weird when you inhabit another's memories, one may think it would be grand. Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. When you have to watch a married couple make love on a wooden floor its slightly awkward. But it was a romantic scene, candle light illuminating the Baron's handsome face, some sort of music drifted in from somewhere.

Then, in the memory, the Baron took Olivia's hand and led her to the wall with Cortes's emblem. Clothed in nothing but a sheet she looked at the wall then back at her husband quizzically.

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked. His rich voice was peppered with a Spanish accent, making his appeal go up a notch. I felt Olivia move forward and take the Baron's arm. Leaning into him she replied,

"That depends on how much you love me." The Baron only smiled and turned to the wall.

"This secret is most precious to me. The only thing I care about more is you. That is why I wanted to show it to you, so there are no secrets between us." The Baron looked Olivia in the eyes.

"As long as it's nothing to kill over, I am game, my love." Olivia laughed softly. I could see a glimmer of unease on the Baron's face but it was gone before I could make sure. The Baron quietly stroked my cheek, er, her cheek.

"You are far to fair for such a sinner as me." He said with longing, brushing a stray curl from her face. Olivia stepped forward, pressing herself to him.

"I chose you because of your innocence. No one else had a heart purer than yours." He kissed her forehead then turned to the emblem. Sliding the panel, it opened up to reveal a little nook filled with curious little boxes and relics. Olivia's trained eye was fascinated by the tiny sculptures, but nothing held her attention more than the ornate box in the middle.

"What's that?" She asked. The Baron grinned as he pulled out the box to show to her. On top, the smooth surface had been painted to look like a beautiful sunset. Olivia had a little gasp.

"Its stunning, the color and detail are so… so…" Olivia was lost for words.

"Do my ears deceive me or has my love run out of things to say? I should call the doctor." Olivia smiled. Gently pressing his forehead to hers he whispered something in Spanish. The crazy thing is that I understood.

"Abralo" or "Open it." Olivia tried but couldn't. The Baron laughed at her confusion.

"Remember, darling, the box I gave you for our engagement?" He asked her.

"Yes," Olivia answered, and then suddenly it dawned on her. Reaching for the bottom this time she opened a small hidden drawer. In the drawer were small keys of some sort. Olivia knew how to work it.

"What's the key?" The Baron suddenly looked much more uneasy. His hands started shaking as he held the box. His mouth opened but no sound came out.

"My dear, is something wrong?" Putting the drawer away she pushed the box into his arms. Looking concerned she placed her hand on his cheek.

"I have kept this secret for my family ever since I was sixteen, my father before me. I want to tell you, I should tell you… but…" His breathing was ragged again. Olivia understood, something I wasn't good at.

"Shh," she put her finger on his lips. "I don't want to know."

"But, Olivia…" She shook her head.

"If it puts you at risk, I don't want to know." Carefully, she took the box out of his hands and put it in the cupboard. With gentle fingers she pushed it in deep and then looked back to the Baron. A look of elation and relief flooded his face. Taking her in his arms, he swung her into a dip and grinned.

"I love you, Olivia." He whispered as he leaned down to kiss her.

"I love you," I answered back.

I opened my eyes and was frightened to see Holmes' face near mine.

"I was not aware of your feelings for me, Miss Castillo." Stunned, I took stock of my position. Holmes was holding me in a dip, much like the Baron had. With his face so close to mine I could smell the wine on his breath. Quickly, I stood up and pushed myself away. Watson was dumbstruck into silence, with his mouth hanging open slightly. Uh… awkward.

"Do you want to-," I cut Holmes off.

"No!"

"Is there some-," Watson started.

"No," I told him too. I silently made my way toward the wall and put my hands on the wood.

What did the two of them think of me? They must think I'm certifiably insane, out of my mind, hit my head harder than they thought. To suddenly wake up from a trance like state in the arms of a strange man who is not in fact your husband is a disconcerting feeling to say the least. Did I just use 'disconcerting' in a sentence? Oh no.

Quickly, I slid the panel with the emblem open and saw the box sitting there, slightly dustier than in the memory but very much still the same. The small painting was still breathtaking. Only the size of a small index card, I could not believe the amount of detail that was in the sunset.

"What's that?" Watson asked, coming over to have a look.

"Oho! Looks to me like we have the beginnings of a lead. You remembered something, didn't you?" Holmes asked, already pressing his face close to it.

"I don't know what it holds or how to open it." I said, sadly. "All I know is that it holds a great secret. Something that meant a great deal to him." I added as I trailed my hand across the lid.

"Have you ever seen anything so curious?" Holmes asked. "May I?" He gestured to the box.

"By all means," I handed it to him. With the dexterity of a jeweler he felt around the box and discovered something.

"There, do you see them?" It held the back end of the box towards me. His finger pointed to six little holes. So that's where all those keys went.

"Here, let me show you something." I turned to front of the box toward him and opened it up. The jingle of the keys caught his attention and he took great notice. There were many keys, each one with a different letter of the alphabet.

"Twenty-six keys, six holes, one hundred fifty six possibilities." Holmes breathed, to himself yet both Watson and I heard it.

"Do you know the word that it forms?" Watson asked. Wracking my brain I hoped for another of Olivia's memories to come flying to the surface. I even closed my eyes. Nothing came. Letting out a sigh of disappointment, I looked Watson in the eye.

"Sorry, no." Then I remembered something else in the memory. "But I think I might have another one of these."

"Well, my dear girl, lead the way." Holmes said eager to get a lead. I looked to the open door leading to the salon, but my feet took me to a door on the right.

"Where are you going?" Watson asked. I didn't answer as I looked at the door. There was something written in Spanish and the name Olivia written in it.

"To my room," I answered.

"How do you lock this up?" Holmes asked, trying to pull the door closed. I walked over and pulled the necklace out of the lock. With a quick push I clicked the rose back into place and the door began to close and lock itself. Taking the necklace, I put it inside the rose design on the other door. It opened easily to show a beautifully furnished bedroom. The three of us walked through and I shut the door behind us. With a giant _shoonk_ we heard the door lock behind us. The bed was magnificently made with fluffy pillows underneath an airy canopy. Two vintage dressers stood on either side of the bed, the dark wood matching the dull green and grey color scheme. It was awesome, for me at least. Turning around, I caught a reflection of myself in a tall gilded mirror that stood beside a closet entry. My face looked the same as always but my eyes were much brighter (probably because of less drinking and no 'hooker make up' as Professor Langley used to call it) and my skin was paler. For months I'd been going with a kind of punk rock look with my hair. I'd kept it my natural blond but I put in highlights of pink, blue, and red then kept my hair stick straight (mostly because it didn't do anything else but lay flat). But my reflection rebounded a hairstyle full of perfect blond curls all held in a bunch at the back of my head. Surrounding my face were thin tiny ringlets, accenting the 1870's look. I smiled at the slightly ruffled look my head had to it. The dress I was in was tightly laced, giving me a waist that was pretty nice. A smile fluttered across my face. I couldn't have looked this good if I tried back in 2009, or whenever it is.

"Miss Castillo?" Watson's voice trailed back to me.

"Yes?" I asked, turning back to them.

"You said there was another box like this one," He held up the box we'd found in the wooden room.

"Oh, of course." I looked around and saw a door to what looked like a closet to me. The smell of wood blasted me as I walked in. I swear, if there were ever a fire this place would be a smoldering pile within minutes. Within the closet I saw a stack of shelves and lo and behold there was an identical box sitting wide open. I picked it up and brought it out.

"It's already open," Holmes observed. My hand felt around the back and found the six slots filled with six keys. Turning it around, I showed this to the other two.

"What do they say?" Watson asked. The keys were all turned horizontally so the letters were visible and the message was clear.

M Y L O V E

Aw, the guy had been so romantic, that's a fact. There we go, solved it. Now let's open this thing and see what the man had been hiding.

"So that's it then, we'll just try the same letters and see if it opens?" I asked eagerly.

"No," Said Holmes. Excuse me? He makes no sense sometimes.

"Say what?" I said. Watson gave me a strange look. I need to keep my modern tongue in my head, remember the time period.

"These boxes are not identical." Well yeah, one has a painting on it; the other has some wood inlaid thing-a-majig on it, so I guess they don't 'look alike'. Other than that they seem structurally identical. It is the 19th century; I'll differ to the ever dominant man. Holmes ran his hand over the jewelry box. He had a look of pure concentration on his face. He flicked the bottom and listened carefully, even though it was hanging open. The man's thoughts are truly dizzying to consider.

"This box has a fail safe. If not opened correctly with the right keys the tumblers will move out of place, sealing it until you right it with the same keys you messed it up with. Use the wrong word and the entire lock is off. I've seen a lock like these in an old antique shop." He explained. Oh really? You just happened across a lock that looked strange and now you look at these boxes which were hand made and tell me they are the same lock? Thank you, once again Mr. Holmes for your nonsensical conclusions. That's what you get in 19th century literature: coincidence and irony. Perfect.

"Are you sure?" I asked, hoping to convince him otherwise, "I mean it could be-," I was cut short as the window behind shattered, allowing a bullet to fly through the air and lodge itself snugly into the bedpost.

"Hit the deck!" I screamed as I heard another gun shot rip through the air outside.

"What?" Watson asked, "What do you mean?" He yelled, now confused and stressed. It's an American Navy term, Watson, which means get your big head out of the gun's cross hairs. Instead of voicing my opinions I reached my hand up his leg and pulled him down as hard as I could. Holmes was already at the door, ripping it open.

"Out here!" He yelled. Hold on, Mister, I want to see who's trying to kill us just now. As Watson ran to the door I made a mad dash for the window to see who was firing. Looking out I saw the gravel road of the grounds of the estate passing immediately underneath the window and the gates just beyond it. I caught sight of a man, shrouded by a black cloak, reloading what looked to be one heck of a rifle. He looked up to the window and our eyes connected for a minute. I was struck for a moment, Olivia's memory flaring up. I knew the face, but from where?

Suddenly I felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around me and lift me off the ground. Scared, I flailed and thrashed and screamed when a bullet shot through where I had been standing. Shocked, I stopped struggling for a moment. I noticed it was only Holmes who had been holding me and pulling me away from what could have been my death. But instead of letting me go, he squeezed tighter and hefted me over his shoulder. Hey! I can run for myself, thank you very much.

"Put me down, you scoundrel." I yelled as he and Watson barreled down the hallway. With me, the whole time, flung over Holmes's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Well this is degrading, now isn't it?

"Pull forward!" Holmes screamed to Watson as the walls began to erupt with gunfire. I couldn't see what Watson had done, but Holmes kept on running. I ducked and screamed some more as shrapnel began to rain down on me. I heard a yell from farther off. Looking up I saw Watson slide down the Grand Banister and run into a group of poorly dressed men who looked pretty dirty and merciless to me. Using his walking stick, he effectively knocked some of them out and was still punching the daylights out of a couple others. I felt Holmes come around to the stairs and begin to descend. That was when I felt the first blow. Holmes was whacking people while carrying me too. I started to whack at him.

"Put… me… down! I can fight." I yelled. Of course he didn't listen to me. We got to the bottom of the stairs and I saw a few more thugs coming in from the back.

"Holmes, look out!" I screamed. He whirled around, nearly cracking my head on one of the light sconces, and ran to a corner. With a grunt he hefted me up and put me back on the ground.

"Ooof!" I frowned at him.

"Stay here, milady." He left me there and quickly dispatched all the thugs coming at him. The whole fight ended up with Holmes and Watson side by side, and using each other as extra hands. I'd never seen a fighting style quite like it. Watson hit one's temple and Holmes nearly choked another. I quickly stood to go and help but all too soon Watson and Holmes had it taken care of. What? Fine! Don't let me have any fun. I couldn't help but frown.

"And now, Baroness, I suggest we leave the premises." Watson said matter-of-factly as he grabbed my elbow and rushed me out of there. We hurried to where their carriage was parked and Watson pushed me in as Holmes took the reins. I felt the jerk of the horses starting up and nearly fell on top of Watson.

"Here let me look at you," He said. I could feel my eyes widen. Whoa, whoa, whoa, there red light, no, we're not going there.

"Uh, no thanks, I'm fine."

"No, you're not, hold still." He came closer and reached for my face. No, I said stop. I started to move away, but inside a carriage there ain't much space.

"Really, no, I'm fine." I started to push him away.

"I… said… hold still." He finally forced me down and held my face straight. His fingers brushed the side of my face and it erupted in pain.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," I repeated. He smirked.

"Not so fine, now, are you?" He gently turned my face and began to examine.

Holmes had to ruin it. The carriage suddenly took at sharp turn and I heard a gun shot. The bullet ripped through the window and quickly exited the other. Holmes pulled another crazy move which forced me back, in the process hitting my head. My vision began to blur as the pain blossomed. With my luck he pulled another move and I lost my seating and fell on the floor of the carriage. Luckily, there was something soft to cushion my landing. My head felt so heavy and it hurt so bad I just laid my head down.


	2. Chapter 2: Left to One's Self

Hello one and all! I am here with the second and final installment in this here story. Now before all of you start rearing up on me about this being a horrible ending I pose this question to you all: Whoever said this was the end? I have decided to split this into a three or five set series (depending on how much I want to put in each chapter or whatnot) Each "book" will be about 30 pages or so, split into two chapters. Since this is chapter two this shall be the ending of "Little Details". Keep checking for the title of the next installment in the series though. I have much in store for this and hope it can satisfy all of you. By the way, thank you very much for all the kind feed back about part one. It really spurred me on and was a great motivator. So I take my hat off to you, faithful readers, for your warm hearted acceptance and enthusiasm. One last thing, I promise. I'd like to dedicate this story to my friend Snips95. She was the one who suggested I post this and held my feet to the fire to put it up. She is the Snips to my Skywalker. Thanks Snips.

So without further ado... part two of "Little Details"

**Chapter 2  
**

Next thing I know I feel the floor beneath me rise and fall. A sudden clearing of the throat forced me to open my eyes. Bad idea. I saw about two or three of everything.

"Baroness…" I heard a voice from far away. Opening my eyes, I see a beautiful face. I could feel the carriage had stopped moving. Then I remembered, oh did I remember. I had been tossed about the carriage and now I was not lying on top of just the floor, no, no, I was lying flat on Watson. No wonder the ground kept moving. Suddenly, the door was flung open and Holmes stood there. The first look on his face was surprised, then utter amusement like a kid in a candy store.

"Well, Baroness, I know you're husband is gone and you miss him, but I'm afraid Watson is spoken for." I was slightly confused then thought about what I looked like. Disheveled woman, hair undone, dress everywhere, lying face down on top of an attractive man. Again… awkward. I scrambled up off of Watson so he could move. Holmes only smirked as I exited. I gave him the stare I usually only reserved for my street enemies back when I was younger. When we would circle each other before a fight everyone had their signature move. Mine was the death stare.

"Where are we?" I asked as I looked around. He'd pulled over somewhere in the city in an alleyway near an apartment complex. Holmes was still smirking as he turned back.

"West London, near Kensington." I'm not much one for British geography but Kensington sounded familiar.

"Who was that back there?" Watson asked as he got out. Holmes stared at me again, making me uncomfortable. He seems to find great joy in that.

"Well, I don't know, but the Baroness here seemed to have gotten a fair look." Soon I had two pairs of eyes on me. The air was impregnated with expectation.

"I don't remember who he is, but I know I've seen him before." I looked down at my feet. I hate being useless. Where's a kickboard? I need to smack something.

"But you did see him?" Watson asked. I paused for a minute. Did I remember him? I thought about the face I'd seen. It was very prominent. Pure blue eyes that were so pale I couldn't compare it to anything, round cheekbones, an upturned nose, it was a face like that of a china doll. I looked up to Watson.

"Yes, I'd remember that face." I answered. Watson looked to Holmes, a flutter of worry crossing his features. What? Is there something the matter with being able to identify the attacker? Identify… the… attacker. I'd watched enough JAG to know what could happen to a witness. Oh crap.

"What are we going to do?" I asked. Holmes stared for a moment into space then began pacing.

"Now let's see… we'll need… yes, and some…" He began to mutter to himself. I suddenly had a flash. Kensington, Olivia's mother's maiden name. Then flashes of a countryside estate began to appear, her parents lived there. Images of a couple playing with children popped up. I could almost see the way there from the alleyway.

"I don't know if this helps, but my father's home is nearby. It's about an hour's ride, but we'd have a place to use as a base." I added. Did they have bases back then? Maybe they were called head quarters. Ah who gives a care?

"Yes, that might be very beneficial for us in our current circumstances, " Mused Holmes.

"No, no I need to get home and see Mary," Watson protested. But of course, Holmes didn't answer due to his utter concentration and lack of observance. Oh my heck, I'm starting to talk like them in my head! Holmes seemed to be on a whole different level of thinking at the moment. Watson's words brought him out of the weird trance like concentration the man had going there.

"Of course, you must go back to see lady fair." Holmes began to wag his finger and count on his hand to himself. Watson glared.

"She's sick, Watson. I need to be with her. The only reason I came today was Captain Simmons request." He spat. Once more Holmes started counting to himself. I looked to Watson.

"Does he do this… a lot?" I asked. Watson grimaced and nodded.

"Unfortunately, very often." He replied grimly. I smiled a bit, but felt my face sting at the stretching skin.

"Ah!" I hissed, bringing my hand gingerly up to my cheek. Watson took notice.

"Here let me get that for you," He pulled a pure white handkerchief from his breast pocket, then from inside his coat he pulled out a pair of what looked like tweezers on steroids. There is no way his is sticking that in my face. Warm, sticky liquid started to trickle slowly down my face. Urgh, fine, just make it go away. I held still as he came forward gently and began to pick out the bits of wooden shrapnel from my cheek and neck. Holmes was still off in La La Land, working out his little head games and paying us no attention. It was a little awkward to have Watson inches away from my face, picking out slivers, and me being silent. I tried to strike up a conversation with the only question I had for him.

"Mr. Watson?" I asked.

"Hmm?" He answered; putting the handle of the tweezers in his mouth as he carefully pulled some of my hair out of the mess.

"Why do you have… have such… such a… unique walking stick? You do not seem the type to me who should get into mischief often, and yet…" I trailed off, searching for the right words.

"I know how to use my rapier? I have been with Holmes long enough to know that either I or he will get into some sort of trouble involving combat. It is a simple precaution I take." He explained as he continued his work.

An excruciating pain blossomed from the cold tips of the tweezers. I nearly shrieked. I even backed up about two steps.

"That's a big one, we're going to have to try to pull it out. It probably has another bit to it that is lodged at another angle. We'll go slowly and see if we can dislodge it." Watson tried to comfort me but it wasn't doing me any good. Go slower? Oh no problem, I'll just endure the pain and suffering for a bit longer. No worries, I'm just peachy here. Are you freakin' insane, man? Just give me some sort of drug to make the pain stop. Oh yeah, anesthesia is not all that up to scratch yet. Pass me a bottle of Scotch, would ya?

"I can't do this when you squirm," Complained Watson. Holmes! Give me a hand here! Whip up some magic cure using the stuff in the alley. Oh wait, that's MacGyver. Wish he was here. Nevertheless, Holmes goes and sits down and begins to talk to himself in hushed tones.

"Now come here, we have to get this out of you or it will fester. Ready? On the count of three: one… two… three!" Watson counts aloud.

"OW!" I scream pretty loudly. It's not coming out, Doc. "That hurts!" I whine.

"If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much."

"If Holmes hadn't carried me into that mess, this wouldn't have happened." I countered.

"If he hadn't carried you out of there you'd be in dead right now." Watson raised his voice a bit.

"If the both of you hadn't shown up, those people would have stayed away." I yelled, not really thinking through my logic.

"They would have come for you anyway!"

"I GOT IT!"

"OW! … aah… oh my…" insert your four letter word of choice if you'd like.

"Holmes!" Watson and I both yell. Looking at Watson's tweezers I catch a glimpse at a menacing looking bit of wood. That came out of my cheek? While Watson had been clamping on, Holmes had come up with some brilliant plan and decided to jump us to celebrate. Idiot.

"I have figured out our plan. Get in, we've got no time to waste." Holmes dashed to the carriage and nimbly dashed up to the driver's seat. Slightly shocked, Watson and I just stood there a moment.

"Do the both of you require a private gilded invitation? Let's go!" Holmes called. Watson jogged over and opened the door for me. Oh yeah, chivalry, they don't have that where I come from.

"After you," He pointed inside.

"Gracias," I answered, a bit sarcastically. Did I just say something in Spanish? Yeah, but hey, every American in the future knows at least a few words in Spanish.

After giving instructions to Holmes as to how to get to Olivia's… my… parent's estate in the countryside, I sat in the carriage and looked out the window at the passing city. First we were taking Watson back to his home after much hemming and hawing on both men's part. I swear they hated each other, but then again they seemed like old friends. I simply stared out the window as my thoughts wandered. London. It had always seemed to pretty to me, but now as I looked I saw soot and poverty. It seemed almost alien in comparison to what I was used to. I must have shown my apparent fascination in my face. Watson had been silent for most of the ride until now.

"Are you sure you're alright, Baroness?" He asked. "You seem a bit… far off." Well, maybe it's because I don't know what the hell I am doing here and why I have been put in this body or who I am supposed to be or how I am supposed to go back or when this will all end or where this is supposed to take me. But I digress, Dr. Watson.

"I'm fine, really I'm ok?" I lean on my hand as I look out the window. Watson sort of sniggered at me.

"Ok? Is that the new word all those strange progressive people use? I never thought it would catch on."

"Its not new," I responded automatically. Wait a minute, I'm in some other time. Suddenly, a thought floated through my head from an old English class. _The word o.k. has been in circulation since the late 1830s, yet no one can yet agree on an entomology._ Whew, I'm ok, ha, no pun intended. I decided to turn the subject back to Watson.

"So, is your wife very ill? Will she be alright?" I asked.

"Oh yes, I'm sure she'll make a full recovery, but the flu is very hard on her. She has been vomiting every morning for the past three weeks. But lately her color has returned." Watson reported. Wow, he even treated his wife as a patient. Hope she didn't hear that. I'll trust the good doctor with it though.

We pulled up to a modest building about fifteen minutes later and I take in the surroundings. The place is cleaner but there is still a grungy sort of look to it. I like it. Feels lived in and homey. I watched Watson gather his things.

"Good luck to you, Doctor." I say, because I've got nothing better to do. He looks up at me.

"And you, Baroness." He clips his bag shut when Holmes suddenly opens the door.

"Let's not dawdle, Watson. My lady," He offers his arm to me to help me out. I thought we were just dropping him off? This is a strange turn of events. Watson notices too.

"Holmes, where are you going?"

"In with you, of course. I have not seen Mary in quite some time and I would appreciate a visit." Holmes' eyes sparkled with mischief. Watson tried to protest.

"Really, she is ill and probably won't be feeling up to it. I don't think,"

"Nonsense, come along Baroness, perhaps we can introduce you to her." I look to Watson then look back at Holmes. I was more frightened of what Holmes would do to me than Watson so I took his arm.

"There you are," He helped me down gracefully and Watson came down after.

"Lead the way, my friend." Holmes said, wrapping my arm through his. I was a little weirded out by this but, hey, this is the 1890s a woman doesn't have the rights to be by herself yet.

We come up to the door and Watson leads us in, up a few flights of stairs and around a landing. The place looked good, modestly furnished but still with an expensive shine. We came to a door and Watson opened it with his key.

"Mary?" He called as he walked in. Holmes led me in, still holding my arm but drifting around loosely. Watson walked through another door and called for Mary. I heard a faint retching sound. Couldn't help but wonder if that came from upstairs, downstairs, or next door. All these walls were really thin. Holmes was looking around and taking in his surroundings.

The walls were covered in all different kinds of books. I let go of Holmes and walked to the shelf. He didn't seem to care, he was busy looking at some letters on a table. Nosy imbecile, ever heard of decency? I looked at the titles; most of them were doctoral journals or books on medicine. Then I heard voices coming from the room over.

"You don't have to go out there if you don't want to. I mean it." It was Watson's voice, but gentler, more sincere. I heard a tinkling laughter.

"Oh John, you worry too much. I feel just fine really, never better actually." I could almost hear the smile in the woman's voice. It was soft and melodious yet still strong and determined. I hurried back to Holmes' side as I heard footsteps come around the corner. Holmes didn't seem any bit surprised that I had suddenly come back to him.

"Mr. Holmes, welcome." A young woman appeared the in the doorway and she smiled warmly to Holmes. Her long red hair was tied up in a bun, a sign of practicality and not frivolity. At first she appeared slightly pale but as the encounter went she continued to improve. I was beginning to wonder if she was the one I heard retching. Walking in long, graceful strides she crossed to Holmes and held out her hand.

"A pleasure, madam, I assure you." Holmes said, gently touching his lips her outstretched hand. "I am terribly sorry to intrude but I did wish to see you again." She laughed lightly.

"Not at all, you are always welcome here. Especially after what John told me happened to your building. Most unfortunate."

"Yes, well, I am getting by on my own but the whole building still reeks of the chemicals." Huh, no wonder you're crazy. You've been hyped up on fumes. A short silence fell and Holmes turned to me and pushed me forward.

"Where are my manners? This is Baroness Olivia Guinevere Williams Beckett Castillo. Baroness, Mrs. Mary Watson." Mary smiled warmly.

"No need for introductions, we've met on a few occasions. How are you?" She asked me.

"I'm doing alright, thank you very much for asking." Watson came up behind Mary and put his arm around her waist.

"The Baroness here has had quite a day. A temporary amnesia patient." Mary's eyes widened.

"Oh I am so sorry. How terrible! Do you remember much?" Mary asked.

"It comes and goes, but as of right now I can barely remember my husband and parents. I couldn't even remember my own name earlier."

"Yes, well, this has been just fine and everything but I'm afraid as Mary's doctor I must put her to rest."

"Thank you both for coming." Mary smiled genuinely. Then she turned to me and curtsied. "'Twas and honor, my lady." I curtsy back.

"It was my honor." Holmes then grabbed my hand and put it through his arm again. Watson showed us to the door.

"Holmes," He asked as we turned to leave, "don't get into any more trouble today."

"Ah, but where is the adventure in that. Goodbye Watson."

"Good day, Holmes." And Watson shut the door. Looking at me, a smile spread across Holmes' face.

"What?" I asked. He was silently smug all the way to the stairs.

"She's expecting." He said matter-of-factly. She's expecting what?

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, still slightly confused. Holmes was almost giddy with satisfaction, even chuckling a bit.

"Watson, you sly dog." He continued to himself. Could somebody please tell him that it's polite to explain one's self? "Looks like they're going to need some more room."

"What on Earth are you babbling about?" I hiss. Holmes finally stopped. Turning to me slowly a sly grin crossed his face.

"Miss Mary and Watson are expecting a baby." Wow, and how did you get that, pray tell oh master of mysteries.

"Oh? And how do you surmise such a conclusion?" I asked sardonically.

"It's really quite simple my dear. The most obvious would be Miss Mary's 'illness', I heard Watson telling you she only vomited in the morning." Morning sickness, ok that one was obvious I should have known that one but still, it's far fetched at that. "Also, while I was in their apartment I saw a letter from Miss Mary to a friend," You little snake, that's personal information you know. Didn't your mother ever teach you to keep your nose out of other peoples' business? Anyways, I digress. "In the letter she mentions a strange longing for exotic foods, like the Indian foods Watson used to make her." I try to stay silent to show my disapproval for snooping. "and thirdly another letter to her tailor was sitting next to it. She asked him to add another six inches to her waistline measurement." That was it. I couldn't help but gasp.

"You should keep to yourself Mr. Holmes, or it will get you into some fantastically foolish scheme in which case you'll end up getting what is coming to you. To notice physical signs, alright those are obvious. But to read another's personal correspondences? That, sir, is far too low for me to stoop." There, I gave him a piece of my mind and he can do with it what he wanted. I was hoping for an apology and he'd swear never to do it again, but alas this is Sherlock Holmes I am speaking too. All he did was shrug, pull out his pipe and light it.

"Your opinions are what they are, however you cannot refute the evidence." He took my arm again and marched me down to the carriage. I glared at him for a bit. I loathe you. I was sending him telepathic messages of distaste and dislike. We walked outside and the sun had broken through the perpetually overcast sky. Going down the steps, Holmes grabbed my arm.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, a little confused. He was still thinking but trying to put his jumbled thoughts into a coherent sentence.

"Your family's estate, the location…" Spit it out man, what are you trying to tell me? "You are a member of the Beckett house." I'm not sure, please enlighten me.

"I don't think I understand," he cut me off before I could finish my question.

"Your maiden name is Beckett, correct?" Thinking back I remembered Beckett being mentioned in my formal name.

"Yyyess," I say slowly, "But what does that have to do with-,"

"Come on," He grabbed my hand and hoisted me up to the driver's seat with him. It was a tight fit with all my dress in the seat, but it was cozy.

"Could you please explain to me what is going on exactly?" I asked as we began to ride.

"Your father owns a horse training facility for Her Majesty's royal races. One of the most prominent in all of London. Your husband was also a horse bettor and those records were kept at your father's estate during the investigation of his death."

"Murder," I corrected. I didn't bother to ask him how he knew all this useless stuff, I've learned from my mistakes. Holmes nodded and continued.

"Your father also kept all the investigative evidence and records on your request when the case was closed as a suicide. We need to get those records somehow. They will probably be held with the horses' breeding papers, kept under lock and key." He then went on to explaining something about how the horse races were actually quite predictable but I started to zone out as he started to incorporate math. Olivia's… my father kept all those records for me? Why did I choose to keep them anyway? Did I keep all of them? The questions began to swirl as we rode along through London towards the estate.

Holmes pulled up to a huge castle. I couldn't help but marvel at the spectacle. I'd seen movies where they show the giant houses people had, but I was still slightly awed. Holmes hopped lithely down from the driver's seat and held his arms up.

"Come along now." Did he think I was going to jump or something? Then I looked down. There was no way I was going to get down in a dignified manner. Biting my tongue I reached out for him and slid off the seat. He was surprisingly strong; I was expecting him to buckle slightly under my weight. Yet he wrapped his hands firmly around my waist and brought me safely to the ground. Only thing is he didn't let go. His lingering hold made me look him in the eye. I saw something there I couldn't quite place. I turned away and walked out of his hold.

"Oh, one more thing, Baroness," Holmes stopped me before we entered, "no one must know if we take those documents." Take? I thought it was on a look only basis here? Well, I guess it would make sense that you'd need to have further examination in order to make sense. I didn't really anticipate becoming a thief but if it helps me out of this thing then I'm game. Game? Did I really just say that?

"Very well," I answered. We walked up the cobblestone walkway, under the lavish archways and trellises, to the front door, which was actually I think the mouth of a cave. It was huge. What? Did they expect Sasquatch to call for tea? Oh wait, this is England.

I knocked on the door with the gilded knocker in the shape of a horse's head (go figure) and waited. The whoosh of the opening door was epic to say the least. The older maid stood there, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Oh, Miss Olivia," she said, pleasantly surprised. "Do come in. Your father and mother are just sitting down to tea. Come, come." The woman ushered us in. If I was impressed by the outside, I was even more flabbergasted at the interior. Pale blues and creams adorned the entranceway. A white marble staircase, complete with gold inlaid, wound grandly to the upper floors of the palace. How much did this place cost? A better question would be how much does it take to clean it?

"Come along," Holmes murmured as he grabbed my arm and forced me to follow the maid. She opened some side doors to what looked to be a parlor.

"Would the Lady care for tea with her suitor?" I didn't really listen all that well, I was too preoccupied by the bronze statue of a horse standing in the corner.

"Yes thank you," Holmes answered for me, I could hear it from far away. The maid approached a beautiful round table at which two individuals sat sipping tea. The first was an older lady who looked like something crapped _in_ her nose. By the way she was dressed I guessed her to be my mother. Oh… no. Please tell me I won't have to spend a lot of time with this woman. I could feel my heart sinking in a rate of free fall. Then I looked at the man beside her. His kindly face was etched with lines of age but still bright with the essence of youth. I would have guessed him to be in his early 30s if not for the shock of distinguished grey hair that sat perfected coiffed on his head. He turned to look at the new arrivals, me and Holmes, and smiled in a way that made me wish I met my own dad just for that.

"Lord Beckett, your daughter and escort…" The maid paused as she realized she'd forgotten to ask his name.

"Holmes, Sherlock Holmes." Holmes supported from behind me. I suddenly felt his hand gently rest on my elbow. I realized what he was doing. He was trying to play up the fact that he was my suitor. The cad! But I didn't want to give him a bad impression to my father, we needed the information he had. So I had to bite the bullet. Pull it together, you're a sailor, I kept telling myself. Immediately, Lord Beckett stood and bowed cordially. My mother of course was not so polite. She nodded her head gracefully but did not stand. The maid pulled out two chairs and then hurried off to fetch the tea. Holmes guided me to one chair. He pulled it out for me and when I sat down pushed it back in. Well, he's not a complete scoundrel I guess. But still… that does not excuse him.

"Darling, how are you?" Lord Beckett asked. Well Dad, actually not so great. I woke up this morning in another person's body and was nearly killed within an hour.

"To be honest, I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a tight spot." I replied politely. His face was suddenly filled with concern. My mother's face however, was aimed at Holmes. The scowl on her face reminded me of some prehistoric bird. I could have laughed at it.

"This morning, Father, I was attacked. I have temporary amnesia, says the doctor, and I still am missing some memories. I think someone is trying to kill me." There. No beating around the bush. No flourishes. His mouth dropped. Even my mother's face deviated from its course to look at me.

"Darling, are you alright? Upon my word, why would anyone want that?" Lord Beckett asked. Aw, he cares about his daughter. I looked at Holmes. He held my gaze for but a moment then answered for me.

"We think that the person who killed Baron Castillo might be out to kill Miss Castillo." Lord Beckett looked at Holmes with a bit of a scrutinizing flick.

"What is your profession, Mr. Holmes?" He asked. Oh boy, here we go. He's going to ask the questions. What do you do? What is your education? What are your plans for the future? Do you wear protection… oh wait, wrong time period.

"I am an investigator of cases. People hire me to solve their mysteries."

"You're a detective?" Way to go Dad, you're so smart.

"Yes I am." Wow, Holmes was meeting the challenge head on.

"So, how long have you been in this profession?" Lord Beckett asked, taking a sip from his tea cup.

"Over fifteen years," Holmes said calmly as the maid laid a cup of tea before him. She then put one in front of me. I took a whiff of the stuff. It was strong, but I figured what the hey? I realized that I was very thirsty, my body hadn't had anything to drink in a long while. Not to mention eat. I started to stare longingly at Lady Beckett's scone on her plate.

"And do you think it is reasonable to say my daughter is in danger of a murderer who killed her husband?" He asked. The glare came back to Lady Beckett's face. I had to hide my smile in my cup as I started to swig the tea. Flames erupted on my tongue. I thought I'd just swallowed liquid lava. Without even thinking about it, I spit it back out into my cup and coughed a bit as I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. I looked up mid-wipe to see my parents staring at me in befuddlement.

"Its still hot, I'm fine." I said. Just, you know, in case you were wondering about that. Holmes was looking around, not even paying attention to me or my family. I could really care less about what was going through his mind right then, because I know he had seen that little incident. He was probably internally insulting me or laughing at me. I simply cleared my throat and smoothed out my skirt.

"You were saying, Mr. Holmes?" I urged. The silence was starting to wear on me.

"I do believe there is cause to be extremely cautious. As to whether the killer is the same one who murdered the late Baron, I can not know that for sure until more evidence is discovered." Wait hold on, back up? Did my father say murderer? Didn't Holmes say that the case was closed as a suicide?

"So Father, you believed it was a murder?" I asked, ooh what a twist. Father of the bride goes after the new husband. I could feel a glare heat my gaze. But Father's gaze was soft and warm still.

"Yes, after your careful convincing and my knowing of the man I knew it could not have been simply a suicide. He was much more courageous than that." Oops, sorry Pops. I sipped my tea, slowly now, and zoned out as Holmes began to make small talk with my father. I couldn't help but look around at this place. They were livin' well, ain't no doubt about it. The place just dripped with wealth and elegance. It made me wonder whether I was picked out to marry the Baron or he chose me. Hmm, I'll have to ask next time I get a chance.

Tea finished uneventfully. My mother dramatically declared that she needed to do some planning. When I asked what for I got yet another quizzical look from her. I seem to be getting a lot of those lately.

"Our annual ball, dear, you know that." Oh, forgive me, Mother. I was hit over the head this morning and am now cursed with temporary amnesia, and thank you so much for bringing that little detail to my attention again. She made her way up the marble staircase in a regal fashion. It took all my will power not to go follow her and mimic her out of spite. My father looked at his wristwatch and sighed.

"Darling, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have a board meeting to attend. Will you be staying here or going back to…" He trailed off and I wondered why. Does he not like mentioning my independent housing situation? Maybe I don't like my independent housing. Or maybe he doesn't like to bring up my husband's death to my face. Maybe I don't allow him to. I look to Holmes who looked back at me, staring me down as I made a decision.

"Would it be alright if I stayed here for the night? I don't know that my own home is safe at the moment." I answer, keeping a peripheral eye on Holmes who seems pleased. Father walked around the table and smiled his warm smile. He took me in his arms and gave me a good long squeeze.

"Make yourself at home." He said as he kissed my forehead and headed out. I watched him walk out and noticed he walked with a slight limp.

"Well," I turned to Holmes, "now what do we do?" He only moved in closer.

"We need to get out to where the records are kept. Do you remember where that is?" I thought for a moment and waited for my mind to…to… flicker I guess. But nothing came so I just gave it my best guess.

"I'm not sure but I think we should start out where they keep the horse papers." Holmes gave me a look. Wait a minute, am I a step ahead of Sherlock Holmes?

"And why the horse papers?" He asked. I am a step ahead. Hold on man, let me just take in this moment. I'd like to bask in the glow of my own intelligence for a fraction of a second.

"You're not going to share this wonderful secret with me?" Holmes asked. I had to shake myself from my ego and get back to the task at hand.

"The breeding documents of the horses are what give them their titles. Without them, the horses are simply racing horses with no records. The better your documentation of the animal's progeny; the higher chance that you will get a good sponsor. My father would want to keep those safe, somewhere locked up. My guess would be out in the stable offices is where the safe is. We could check there first."

"Well reasoned, Baroness, bravo." Holmes nodded to me. Why thank you, sometimes I amaze even myself you know. He then held his arm out in an escort fashion. Rolling my eyes and smiling, I placed my hand delicately on top. We proceeded to walk out to the back where off a ways was a large stable and a dirt horse track.

"Did he like horses?" Holmes asked casually, but I could still see he was pumping me for information. My memory flickered and I saw a lot of images of the Baron and myself in the stables or even out riding.

"Yes, he did. We were both fond of them, but he had a favorite." I looked at my feet and everywhere else but Holmes. We came to the back door and Holmes opened it for me and led me to the back patio which looked like a grand balcony from the ancient Roman times. Large stone steps led down to the ground level.

"A favorite horse? Which one?" Now that Holmes asked I suddenly drew blanks of what the horse looked like, or its name for that matter.

"I… I… well… it was one of the fastest. He'd sometimes come and train with the horse personally. I've only see that kind of trust in a horse in Z-," I caught myself. I had almost said Zorro. That was a close one.

"In what?" Holmes asked.

"In fairy tales." I answered. I could tell he didn't believe me, but surprisingly he didn't press the matter.

After walking through the tall grasses of the yard we came to the stables. Holmes started to tread lighter, his head cocked to the side as if listening for some foe. We came to the door and he stopped me.

"Remember, we were never here. At least I wasn't." Holmes gave me a look that asked if I understood. Aye, aye, Captain. I nodded silently and we crept around the doorway. Looking down the row of horse stalls, I didn't see anyone. Nevertheless, we walked as smoothly and silently as possible.

"I think the stable manager's office is at the end." I whispered. I don't even know why we whispered, there wasn't anyone there. We came to the last few stalls and I saw the door to the office was slightly open. What luck! The powers that be were smiling on me, for once.

All of a sudden Holmes grabbed my arm and yanked me down. I tried to scream but he clapped his hand over my mouth. He'd pulled me into one of the stalls and we dropped down to the ground. I caught a brief "shh" before he silently signaled me to listen. As I did, I heard the muddy footsteps approaching the place we had just recently vacated. I discreetly moved to get a look at the man. As he walked through the stable the horses suddenly began to bray excitedly. Then I remembered. This man was the stable manager. He'd been a stable boy when Olivia, I mean, I was growing up and now he was in charge of the place.

"I know him." I murmured under my breath to Holmes. He leaned into me so I could hear him.

"Who is he?" He breathed in my ear. The soft tickle of his breath was actually kind of pleasant, but I had more pressing matters.

"He's the stable manager. When I was younger he and I were friends. He…" an unpleasant memory flickered by, "he wanted to be more than friends though." Holmes took all this into consideration.

"We need to get inside that office. Time is critical. He absolutely can not see us." I could almost see the cogs working in Holmes' head. "We need a diversion."

"What are our options?" I ask. Holmes is silent as he silently scans the entire barn, his eyes resting longer on the stall, the manager, and me.

"I have a plan, but I will need you to do some things for me." I could see the question in his eyes. Well, you've protected me this far. I guess I could trust you.

"I will do whatever you ask of me." He smiled quietly. The horses' whinnies started to die off making it harder for us to talk without being heard. "I am going to need a few supplies for this plan to work." He looked once more around the stall then letting his eyes linger on me and seize me up.

"What do you need?" I asked eagerly, tired of the obnoxious silence that happens as he thinks a million miles an hour _silently_ to himself.

"I will need five hairpins, the top three buttons from your shirt, your hat, and a ribbon from your hair." Odd, but ok, sounds good. I pull out the exact five hairpins and hand them over to him. My curls fall down my back but I don't want to complain. What I wouldn't give for a polyester hair tie right now. I then quickly rip the top three buttons from my dress and hand them over. Taking off the small hat on my head I notice that it is held in with a few hairpins, so I shake those out as I go. I then reach down to the hem of my skirt and rip the ribbon edge from underneath the overlay. Holmes then sets aside all the "supplies" and begins to tie the ribbon around my neck. We crouch down, so not to be seen, but I doubt the guy would be watching. Gentle fingers ran through my tight ringlets, letting them fall wild and free down my back and over my shoulders. Then he opened up the top of my blouse a bit. I suddenly realized what he was doing to me. He gave me one last look over then nodded, satisfied.

"Now, go over there and start a conversation with him. Get him to turn his back to the office." Holmes plucked a feather out of the hat I had just been wearing and softly tucked it behind my ear.

"Now go!" He then pushed me up. Wait! I'm not ready. What was I supposed to do? Urgh! Why is it always me who is left in the dark?

I can't help but make a small noise as I get pushed out of the stall. I fall to the ground, not so gracefully. With the muffled thump of my impact the manager turns around and stares. A tentative smile crosses his lips.

"Miss Castillo?" He asked as he walked over and helped me up. I locked eyes with Holmes who was still hiding within the stall. He nodded then curled up into the shadows.

"Oh thank you, I-I-I must have taken a bad step." I lie. The manager begins to help wipe off the dirt from my dress.

"You always did have clumsy feet," The man smiled, but then it disappeared, "milady," He seemed tense, awkward, like he didn't know quite how to act around me. Well, I guess we were good friends and now I was an esteemed Baroness with a title and a wedding rock to prove it. But then again that is now null and void since the death of my husband. Hey, look at that, I accepted that I was once in a marital relationship. This is better than therapy with that shrink boyfriend of… of… oh what's her name… Lois! Yes. Man, talk about a screwed up psyche.

"It's true. I was not blessed with my mother's grace." Or her snobby attitude, thank heavens.

"It's good to see you again, Olivia, you haven't been around much after the Baron…" He trailed off. Everyone seems to do that around me.

"Yes, well, I've been a bit preoccupied with some affairs." I straightened out my dress and remembered how low cut it had become. The man had seemingly noticed this as well. As much as I hate it, score for Holmes in tactics. I wouldn't have thought of that.

"So… how are you faring? Well, I hope?" He asked. Hmm, I'd like to be able to address him but there's one little problem: I don't even know the dude's name. I continue the conversation anyway.

"Well today has been a whirl wind. You see, I was found this morning lying on the floor and with a knot the size of Kansas on my head."

"What's Kansas?" The guy asked. Shoot! Umm… uh… well insert your favorite colorful word here because I'm not going to repeat mine.

"Uh, it's one of the 50… I mean 48 states in the United States. I learned about that uh… last year from my friend… Dorothy." Lame come back, Liv. Really? The best you could do was a Wizard of Oz excuse? I'm ashamed.

"Oh, well are you alright?" He asked me. I laughed and took his hand. Time for step two: make sure he can't see what's behind him.

"Yes, I'm fine, but my memory is not. According to the good doctor I have been afflicted with temporary amnesia." Oh! Epiphany right here. "In fact, and I know this is going to sound terribly rude but, I can't even remember your name. Perfectly awful, I know." I looked down, pretending to be ashamed when in reality I was trying to hide my triumphant smile. Oh the cleverness of me!

"Oh, you poor thing. But who would do such a thing to you?" He took the bait and stepped closer to me, turning his back fully to the office. Yes! Objective completed. Now its time for the next objective: keeping a conversation going with him. Oh joy.

"Its Richard, by the way." He added with a small smile.

"I don't know why, but I think someone is trying to get after me for my fortune. Since I am without a male escort," I move in closer to Richard as I watch Holmes scamper across the stable and into the office. "I am afraid everyone believes me to be vulnerable. Sadly, there is no one to take the Baron's place at the moment." I say, trying to look pitiful like a wilting flower. Again, Richard snaps up the bait.

"You mean there is no other suitor in your life right now?" Did he have to say suitor? Ok, Holmes is my pretend suitor so he doesn't count. Other than that I hope I don't have any other romantic entanglements I don't know about. I lace my fingers through his and begin walking in the opposite direction of the office. Holmes had better hurry up.

"Unfortunately, no, the Baron was the love of my life, I didn't think I'd ever lose him." We'd walked a few paces and now our strides were in perfect sync. I think he was doing that on purpose.

Suddenly, Richard yanked me around to face him. His free arm grabbed my arm.

"Olivia, I must confess. Ever since we were children we had feelings for each other. I still have them and it about killed me when you chose to marry that Baron. I have one inquiry of you though, and please do not think me brash or indecorous. Olivia…" With that he held me in a vice grip and pressed me to him. He shoved his lips on mine and began kissing me passionately. I stared wide eyed at the man; half in shock, half in admiration to have the guts to do that. I suddenly saw Holmes appear in the doorway of the office and look straight at me. He gave me an amused look then mouthed something to me. I think he said to _keep going_. Really? But it looked like he had what he wanted, in a large satchel over his shoulder.

Alright sailor, you've got a mission. Make out with a decent man passionately. I set my jaw and began to return the kiss. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Holmes watch my zealous approach to his encouragement. How's that for theatrics? He still didn't move. I moved my hand up as if to caress Richard's face but signaled Holmes to get moving by flapping my hand furiously away from myself. I kissed for another good minute before I broke off. Richard was panting as he stared at me. The look in his eyes was slightly creepy. I decided to go for the "I can't do this" angle to get away.

"Richard, I… I… can't do this with you. Not right now." I saw his face fall a bit. "You're a good man, with a good heart. And maybe some day, down the road-,"

"You'd consider me?"

"I didn't say that." I countered.

"You were thinking it though." Oh great, another person after me. Looks like I've got a killer and a stalker on my tail now.

"I- I have to go." I say and run out of the barn, leaving him to his imagination.

I ran for a good three minutes straight, putting as much distance between me and the barn before I slowed down at all. Then I realized a great truth that had escaped me in my haste to get the heck away from the creeper: I needed to find Holmes and I didn't know where the heck he was. I trudged through the soft mud and grasses back up to my house. I was going to need a change of clothes, and to avoid my mother. Covert operations have begun.

Getting up to the house, I poked my head inside the door. Hopefully, Mommy dearest is still busy planning for her little ball upstairs. I could try and make a run for the servant's quarters but there would be too many questions. Finally, I decided I would just ask where my own room was. Passing by me, a little ladies' maid carried a stack of fresh towels.

"Excuse me?" I asked, making myself known to her. The young girl was startled but soon got over herself.

"Good evening, Miss Olivia," She curtsied and didn't make eye contact with me.

"I was wondering if you could tell me where my room is. You see, I have temporary amnesia and-," I didn't get to finish.

"It's down in the east wing, up the stairs and the first door on your left." The girl looked up and smiled at me. Aw, she must have been only 12 or 13. But she seemed to enjoy being talked to.

"Thank you very much, Miss…" I wanted to get her name.

"Anna," she replied. With another small curtsy, she returned to her previous duty. I hurried down the hallway, eastward like she said. No stairs. I kept going down the hallway, trying to keep myself as much out of sight as possible. No stairs. Did that little brat lie to me? After considering turning back I saw a hand rail lead around a corner. Score! I hobbled up the stairs, becoming increasingly aware of the dirt I was tracking in. Going around the stairwell I looked to the first door on my left. With a quick look around, I opened up the door and was quick to close it behind me.

"Finally," I breathed. Opening up my eyes I set eyes on the room before me. Oh. My. Word. The place just dripped with money. I wouldn't be surprised if there would be diamonds sewn into the very carpet I stood on. The room was painted in creams and pale blues. A mural was painted on the left wall of a seaside homestead. I walked through in awe, not even trying to hold my mouth in.

After a good five minutes of admiration, I walked into what I thought was the closet. Yeah, closet is an understatement. The door opened to reveal a small outlet store. A thin layer of dust lay over all the materials and clothing. I did not feel worthy to even touch these fabrics. The ruby satins and pale blue taffetas rustled under my touch. Looking at my hand I noticed the dried blood and dirt smudges. Shower time.

It took a little bit, but after some exploration I found the bathroom. The cupboards were filled with every sort of bottle I could think of. Yet none of them held labels telling me what was in them. In the end I just grabbed the one that smelled the best and walked over to the shower. It definitely was different from the ones at home, but this one was bigger than mine. I peeled off the green dress and put on a soft silky robe I found hanging on a hanger near the shower door. The water nozzles were clearly labeled; one being colored a faint silver while the other was a shiny copper color. I turned on the copper nozzle and decided to turn on the silver one as well. On the vanity a scrub brush hung on a hook by the mirror. I walked over to get it and caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked bloody awful, emphasis on the bloody. I didn't know but the scab on my face had opened up again and was bleeding down my cheek. Hope no one saw that. I could also see the mud smudges from me sitting in the horse stall with Holmes. Where had he gotten off to any way? Ah, he's a big boy, he can take care of himself I'm sure.

Grabbing the brush, I locked the door and hopped in the shower. The soft fabric of the robe felt great on my skin but the feeling of the rhythmic water felt ten times better. The water was very hot, making steam rise all around me. With the scrub brush, I began to de-blood myself and get rid of all muck and grime. The steam seemed to clear my head much more than anything I'd experienced yet that day. Ok Liv, now we can think. What could have possibly happened that I could have ended up in this time period in this person? Modern science wouldn't be able to explain it. What could have happened that I would be sent back in time? Just then another thought hit me. If I didn't know how I got here, then how was I going to get home? Even though the water was already really hot I turned it up to keep myself from shivering. I couldn't stop the horrible despairing feeling that started to take over me.

I could almost feel the soothing hand touch my bare shoulder. J.T. seemed to always be there with me when I needed someone. In my mind he was there with me, in the shower. He was close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my bare neck. I wanted to reach out and touch him, just to hold him once more. I wanted to whisper to him, let him hold me in his arms and keep me safe. I wanted to hear him tell me that everything would be alright and I was being silly. But as I reached my hand up to hold his face and pull him in for a kiss my hand only grasped steam.

Opening my eyes I looked at the blank tile wall, my arm still in the air looking for someone who wasn't there. I couldn't help but sigh as I let my arm fall to my side. I rinsed that soapy, good smelling, gunk out of my hair and got out of the shower. Wrapping the towel around me I felt myself stop for a minute. Tears began to fill my eyes. Leaning against the wooden door I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Letting one tear fall, I remembered J.T. and it hurt. For so many months now I had held out hope that he was out there and that it was only a matter of time before he was found and I would see him again. I would wrap my arms around him again, I would kiss him once more. But now, as I sat in that bathroom with the steam swirling around my head I realized something that I should have known long before.

I will never see him again.

Somehow it didn't pack as bad a punch as I expected, but it still pained me. I don't think I will ever find anyone I loved as much as J.T. in my life. I just laid back on that door and let myself calm down.

I walked out of the bathroom and decided to get dressed in one of those dresses I saw earlier. The robe felt even better on me now that I was scrubbed clean. Walking into the closet I picked out something in a purple-grey tint and put it on. It was stiff and crisp, I would guess it hadn't been worn in quite a while, but I still pulled it on anyway.

As I walked out of the closet, attempting to do up the three hundred buttons up the front, I heard someone clear their throat. Holmes stood there, leaning against the four poster bed.

"Holmes! Wh-what… how?" I wildly tried to close up my dress as fast as I could. He chuckled and turned his back to me as I continued my buttoning. "Thank you," I muttered to him.

"I came to tell you goodbye. I will analyze what I have here," He patted the satchel over his shoulder, "and get back to you whenever I can."

"You can look now," I said, smoothing out my dress and resuming a somewhat dignified stance. He turned to me and bowed slightly.

"Goodbye, Baroness," Hold up there Mr.

"Wait, you're just going to leave me here?" I asked. The look he shot me made me rethink that one.

"You'll be safe here I hope. You are now in the hands of your family." Oh yeah, this is going to be my home. Oops.

"Uh, thank you Mr. Holmes. You've been an enormous help." I held out my hand for a handshake, but Holmes took it and brought it to his lips instead. "You will be in touch." I don't know what to do if you're not.

"Of course." He turned and walked to the door. As he opened it up I couldn't contain myself.

"Are you sure you're going?" I blurted out, instantly regretting my outburst. He turned back towards me slowly.

"I mean… are you sure you have everything you need?" I tried to save a little bit of face.

"I have all I need for now. I will contact you if I need more." With that he tipped his hat to me and walked out the door.

I was alone. Completely.

After running to my window, I watched as Holmes hopped on his horse drawn carriage and made his way down the gravel road and disappeared out of sight. I don't know what I am going to do with myself. I will go to bed tonight and pray he comes back tomorrow for me. To my surprise I found myself only trusting Holmes, of all the people in this estate. Well, I guess I've got to start somewhere.

The sun is setting over the horizon and I hear the dinner bell downstairs. The scuffling my shoes make as I trudge down the stairs is the only sound around me. I can hear myself breath. It's so quiet I can even hear the blood pump through my ears.

I am alone. And there's nothing I can do about it.


	3. Sneak Peek!

Here's a sneak peek into the sequel _**Logicality: Sequel to Little Details**_

Rolling over, I looked at the face of a man I had wished so hard I could wake up next to. I couldn't help but smile as I made eye contact with him. His calm face seemed devoid of drowsiness, like he'd been up watching me for hours. A new shadow of a beard covered his chin. His smile was slow and gradual, but it built up to a great climax.

"Good morning, sleepy."

"Good morning to you." I let my eyes wander down his bare chest. I swear the man was thicker than a seven hour door. He pulled in closer to me.

"I love you." He whispered as he played with my loose curls. With a serious look on my face I look him in the eye.

"I know," I mustered up the best throaty deep voice I could. We both cracked up, trying to stay quiet even though I don't know why. Suddenly he was on top of me, leaning over my neck and moving in to kiss me. It was just as how I'd pictured it. In fact, it was much better.

He disappeared. Instead of making contact with my lips he was gone. I opened my real eyes and found myself staring at the overhead canopy covering my bed. I let out a disheartened sigh as I closed my eyes slowly again. Cold tears lingered on my cheeks as I reached up to rub my eyes. Memories of reality came flooding back. At least, this was my reality now. I don't know what happened or how, but so far I think I am stuck here.

Check it out! Its posted! Thanks for all the support and feedback.


End file.
